Starting Over
by jolenebsr
Summary: Summary:  Follows “Tomorrow” for those who keep up with that kind of thing.  Mal and Inara begin again.


**Starting Over**

Author: jolene

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters.

Rating: NC17

Summary: Follows "Tomorrow" for those who keep up with that kind of thing. Mal and Inara begin again.

Mal stared at his reflection in the mirror over his sink. Mercifully, his eyes were no longer bloodshot, and it was not abundantly clear that he'd spent last night in some kind of horrible soul-baring hell in Inara's shuttle. Scraping the razor along his cheek, he disposed of the stubble of the last four days, and exposed the smooth skin beneath. Though Inara had said nothing of it, when he'd checked in on Zoe, she had told him in no uncertain terms that the scruffy look was not a good one for him.

Of more interest than his skin, however, were his eyes. He looked at himself intently, noting that his eyes had at least lost some of the shadowed, haunted look he'd become accustomed to since Miranda. He supposed the change was due to Inara's words this morning, the generosity of the love she offered to him. He found it passing strange that her offer should come on the heels of the kind of treatment he'd meted out to her in his grief and anger. Of course, he had never imagined he could conjure what would move Inara to quit running and stand steady before him. Maybehaps it was that once he was completely vulnerable, she did not feel threatened in any way, he thought fleetingly, though that didn't seem quite right to him.

Drawing in a deep cleansing breath, he wiped the last of the lather off his face, deciding not to look too intently at the reasons behind her declaration and just accept it as the gift it most surely was. He pulled on a fresh shirt, taking care to choose the blue one he knew Inara favored. Frowning, he tried to remember how he knew that, and came up blank. Regardless, the blue shirt it would be. Running his fingers through his hair, he tried to make the unruly mess look at least a little more presentable.

When he had done all the personal grooming he could stand, he climbed up the ladder to his bunk and made his way to Inara's shuttle, his heart hammering unnaturally in his chest and his palms embarrassingly sweaty. He'd lost count of the times he's taken her in that treacherously soft bed of hers, but he did not delude himself into thinking that this would be anything like the other times. This time, he fully intended to do it properly, like a lover instead of a client.

Inara sat on her couch, trying to calm her own nerves. Serenity was in its sleep cycle, and everyone had long since gone to bed, but still Mal had not come to her. She wondered if perhaps, once he'd had a moment alone to ponder what she'd said, he'd decided that he was not willing to start fresh, not willing to forgive himself enough to give them both the chance they deserved.

And even if he did come, she thought with a small sense of panic, she was not quite sure of how to proceed. Thinking that it was mildly absurd for a trained Companion to be at such a loss, she lit incense, breathing in deeply to still the doubts running wildly through her mind.

She was startled to hear a low knock on her door. Mal had certainly never knocked before, and she found the change almost unbearably tender. Swallowing nervously, she moved to answer the door, sliding it open with trembling hands.

Mal stood on the other side, his hands stuck nervously in his pockets. "Evenin', 'Nara," he said softly.

Inara inclined her head, suddenly tongue-tied, and stepped back to let him in. He took one hesitant step forward, like a man walking to the gallows. Something in the way he was holding himself made Inara ache to touch him, but she held back, remembering all too well what he'd said about her Companion's hands.

Noting the way she held her skirts so tightly in her hands, Mal cleared his throat. "If this is a bad time…."

"No, not at all," Inara said, untangling one hand long enough to gesture to the couch. "Please have a seat."

Mal walked jerkily to the couch and sat down stiffly.

"Would you like some tea?" Inara asked, unable to stop herself from falling back on long-engrained habit.

"No, thank you," Mal said a little too quickly. An uncomfortable silence fell as both cast about for something, anything to say to break the awful tension. Finally, unable to endure the strange quiet, Mal reached out gingerly and took Inara's hand, resting it on his knee. "Ain't quite sure how to go about this thing, darlin'," he said softly. "It's not exactly like we don't have a history to get past here."

Inara's deep brown eyes looked at him with a tenderness that stole his breath. "You're wrong," she answered, her voice low and quiet. "We have no history to 'get past'. I thought we decided that this morning."

Mal nodded, though his eyes still held doubt. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed it tenderly. "You sure you got it in you to forgive me?" he asked, embarrassed when his voice shook slightly.

Inara sighed, sliding a little closer to him on the couch. "We've been hurting each other since we met, Mal."

"Not like I hurt you just lately," he protested.

"Perhaps not," she acknowledged. "But hurting each other, just the same. I'm tired, Mal, tired of running, tired of you running, tired of the whole twisted business. I want us to…" She stopped, unable to articulate what it was she wanted.

Mal gazed into her liquid eyes, and saw the truth reflected there. Leaning the few inches that separated them, he kissed her softly. When she leaned into his touch, he cupped her face gently, deepening the kiss slowly. When finally they had to pull away for breath, they smiled shakily at each other. "Well now," he said, "That was all manner of pleasant."

"Just pleasant?" Inara said, running her hand lightly along his thigh, her eyes shining with a renewed light.

Mal groaned at the contact. "More than pleasant," he answered, pulling her into his lap.

Inara wiggled her hips, adjusting her position and inadvertently sending a jolt of pure desire straight to Mal's groin. Feeling the sudden jump in the pulse of his neck, she pulled back slowly, shrugging her shoulders and dropping the top of her gown in one smooth motion.

Presented with the perfection of her breasts, Mal cupped them with his calloused hands, his thumbs a feather touch against her tightening nipples. Inara arched her back in pleasure, giving him better access as he suckled the sensitive nubs gently. She gasped when he raked his teeth lightly across them, blowing hot breath against her tender skin.

Hastily unbuttoning his shirt, she pushed it off his broad shoulders, her long, dark hair tickling his bare chest as she swayed gently in his arms. Sliding his hands down her satin skin to slip her gown completely off, he found that she wore nothing underneath and she could feel his arousal grow beneath her thigh. Looking into the depths of his blue eyes, she quickly unbuttoned his pants, freeing his straining length, as he lifted his hips slightly to help her.

Inara slowly straddled his hips, rocking slowly against him as she felt the ripple of his thigh muscles against her long legs. His breath quickening, he rested his hands on her hips, urging her silently to lift up her body. She obliged, sensuously sliding down his rock-hard length, taking him as deeply into her warm, wet center as she could, sending pleasure radiating through both of them in ever-widening waves.

Mindful of how cruelly he had used her body before, he allowed her to set the pace, holding her hips only enough to steady her as she moved over him at an increasingly urgent pace. He watched her through lowered lashes. Her head thrown back in the throes of her impending orgasm, her body glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, he thought her the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. As if feeling the weight of his gaze on her skin, she opened her eyes and looked at him intently. Licking her ruby-red lips, she said, "Come for me, bao bei."

"You first," he whispered, slipping one hand between them to find her sensitive nerve bundle and stroking lightly, as her hips bucked against him.

Inara's world went suddenly bright white with the intensity of her release. Mal held her to him tightly, his own hips thrusting upward to bury himself to the hilt inside her. He muffled his cry of release in the soft skin at her neck, certain that he had crossed over into some hitherto unknown realm of pure pleasure.

She melted against him, draping her body bonelessly against his chest, quiet in his still trembling arms. When the ability to speak returned, Mal kissed her softly, murmuring words of tender endearment against her ear. Inara listened, her heart brimming with the love she had for this man, and the joy that she had been able to somehow pull him out of the darkness and into the light of a new day, a day she intended fully to share with him at her side.

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